Viens Avec Moi
by Del'Mareve
Summary: Christophe finally works up the nerve to ask Tweek a question. [Tweekstophe/NSFW/Oneshot!]


**_Viens Avec Moi_**

**_o.O.O_**

**_Author's Note: Inspired by a really cool person. Hope you enjoy! _**

* * *

><p><em>Always ask for what you want, Christophe.<em>

Those were his mother's words to him. Christophe never forgot them. She'd seemed so calm and matter-of-fact as she spoke, bordering almost on wise, but he couldn't help noticing how badly her hands had been shaking. The dark circles under her eyes had nothing to do with exhaustion.

Christophe had been a child, no more than four or five. His mother was a young woman still, but it was hard to tell. Life had taken her between its jaws and shaken her like a dog with a toy, and when it was all said and done, she had been spat out looking like someone much older than she actually was — a bitter ruin of her former self. The beatings hadn't started yet, not then anyway, because Christophe still felt comfortable in her presence. Comfortable enough to nod and take her simple declaration to heart, and keep it there after all these years.

As far as he was concerned, it was the only piece of advice that heartless bitch had ever given him. Fortunately, it was also the best.

_Ask for what you want. _Christophe glanced over at the blond sitting beside him, smiling a little at the irony of it all. He'd never been afraid to ask for what he wanted, even _take _what he wanted when the mood suited him, but this…this was different.

Christophe stared at Tweek, watching as he absentmindedly brushed a lock of his golden-blond hair off of his head, carefully using a kneaded eraser to smooth away any mistakes he found in his drawings. Tweek's lips were always just a little bit dry and chapped, and every once in a while he would wet them while he worked, running his small, pink tongue first over the bottom and then over the top in a way that drove Christophe _crazy_. He couldn't even begin to count how many times he'd fantasized about running _his _tongue over those lips, before biting down to make Tweek yelp.

Asking for what he wanted had always been easy for him, but that was only because he'd never _cared _before. Not like he cared now.

Christophe shifted his position on the bed, trying to peek over Tweek's skinny shoulders. Six months ago, the anxious blond would have automatically moved to block him, bristling like a cat. Tweek no longer cared if Christophe looked nowadays, or how close he got when they sat together like this, and part of him wondered if he ought to be content with that. Tweek was extremely particular about his personal space and everything he considered _his_, almost painfully so. To be allowed anywhere near him — physically or otherwise — was a privilege Tweek Tweak granted to very few people, and Christophe knew he was selfish for wanting more, but he just couldn't help himself.

They had come a long way since that fateful meeting in the South Park High School hallway, the two of them colliding like wayward asteroids. Christophe wasn't even supposed to _be _there, not _yet _anyway, but he'd wanted to get a feel for the place that he would be calling home for the foreseeable future. It was casual reconnaissance, perhaps, but it was a _reconnaissance _nonetheless. Old habits died hard.

Technically, it was all Tweek's fault.

He had been sprinting down the hall with his head down, carrying a dangerously overloaded armful of supplies. When he rounded the corner, huffing and puffing, Christophe hadn't been able to stop in time. Tweek smacked right into his chest, bounced off with an undignified squeak, and fell on his ass. His books went flying, scattering papers all across the floor, and Christophe would have been perfectly happy to write it off as an accident and help this small blond boy pick up his things — except the next he knew, Tweek was shouting at him.

"_W-watch your f-fucking step!" _Tweek screeched. He leapt to his feet trembling with anger, and added, "_GAH_!"

"Eh?" Christophe's first instinct was to fire back with the fact that he hadn't done anything _wrong_, but he stopped himself before his mouth could form the words. He didn't want to cause a scene, and even the most casual observer couldn't possibly have missed how agitated Tweek was, liable to do anything. This kid was a _scene _waiting to happen, and if his superiors found out about his unauthorized surveillance they would skin him alive.

So Christophe quietly reached for the nearest book. The faster he helped, the faster he could be on his way — or so he figured. Unfortunately, Tweek was having _none _of it.

"Don't. Touch. An-y-thing!" Tweek snarled, dropping to his knees. "Just _don't_!"

Christophe stepped away, throwing his hands up in defeat, and watched as Tweek haphazardly gathered up his papers, all while muttering angrily to himself. He moved frantically, balling everything into one big wad that would be _hell _to sort out later. Christophe made no attempt to intervene. Even without his extensive training, he knew a lost cause when he saw one.

"N-now I'm g-going to be l-late!" Tweek whispered to himself, twitching like one of those small dogs Christophe always forgot the name of, "Ngh, Jesus! All because you couldn't w-watch where you were going! _Vous bâtard stupide! Arg, je ne peux pas croire ce qui se passe pour moi…_"

"_Attendez_ — you can speak French?" Christophe had asked, well, _demanded _really, shocked to hear his mother-tongue so far from home. Tweek's only response was a spectacularly dirty look, followed by an eye-roll that could have won _awards _in exaggeration. Then he got up and flounced away.

(He was always doing that, Christophe had noticed, _flouncing _away. Tweek insisted it was a _march_, but marches weren't so bouncy.)

Christophe watched him go, confused and intrigued all at once. In his hurry to get away from him, Tweek had actually forgotten one of his homework packets on the floor, and Christophe quickly scooped it up to read the name, curious.

_Tweek Tweak._ The handwriting was a nearly-illegible scrawl.

It was also a useless piece of information. Christophe let the packet fall to the floor with a sigh, and went about his business. The encounter, while strange, wasn't worth dwelling over.

When Christophe returned to his extremely temporary motel room, there was a message waiting on him from his superiors. The fat old fucks he worked for seemed good for little else but leaving messages, and then sitting back on their hands waiting for _him _to do all the work.

Christophe was amused by the coincidence (but otherwise not the least bit surprised), when he discovered that he'd be staying with the Tweaks until further notice, amidst a dozen other instructions he didn't give two shits about and mission parameters that always seemed to go right out the window. Tweak...as in the same _Tweak _he had run into this morning? Ha, what were the odds? Christophe fancied himself an expert in many things, and making bad first impressions was one of them.

"Wonderful," Christophe muttered to himself, tossing his phone over his shoulder.

Tweek had known — of course he'd known — that a "foreign exchange student" was going to be living with him for a while. But he had no way of knowing that his new guest would be the same guy he'd called a _stupid bastard_ in French just the other day, so their first formal introduction was..._interesting_, to say the least.

Thankfully, despite their rocky start, they eventually became surprisingly good friends.

Christophe purposely shifted from side to side, hoping to get Tweek's attention. His weight made the bedsprings squeak, but Tweek was so absorbed in his work he didn't seem to notice._ Allons donc!_ Christophe made a face, then glanced around the room, searching vainly for a distraction he knew he wouldn't find.

It was quiet in here. The only sounds were that of the rain hitting Tweek's bedroom window, and a soft _scrit-scratching_ of pencil on paper. Christophe normally felt antsy whenever he was surrounded by so much silence, but with Tweek silence was _peaceful_, it was _safe, _a state of being he never thought he'd experience. Could he really be blamed for wanting to get closer to him?

Christophe grinned, and then leaned in a little closer, breathing on Tweek's neck.

"Je pourrais te manger, mon petit."

"Ack! Wha —?!"

Tweek jumped, dropping his pencil somewhere on the bed, and whirled around with an accusatory expression on his face. He was always so adorable when he was like this, pink and flustered and ready to fight at the slightest provocation. Tweek's feistiness had attracted Christophe from the very beginning, partly because it was so _unexpected_. Packed into Tweek's skinny, five-foot-four-inch frame was the soul of a warrior, as Christophe knew from first-hand experience.

"I h-have to be a fighter," Tweek told him once, fidgeting with the end of his plaid green button-up, "I have to f-fight to get up in the morning, a-and deal with this anxiety bullshit and — ngh! Look, I really don't expect you to understand, okay?!"

But he did understand, and it only made him love Tweek more.

_Love?_

The word caught in Christophe's mind like a fishhook, and his heart lurched in his chest, a feeling that was unfamiliar but not totally unpleasant. He smiled as Tweek huffed in annoyance, retrieved his pencil and tucked it securely behind his left ear.

"You t-totally just ruined my concentration, man!" Tweek grumbled, glaring at him, but his cheeks were still pink and he didn't sound all _that _upset.

Christophe licked his lips and leaned forward, pressing boldly into Tweek's personal space with a devil-may-care smile that made Tweek blush even harder, clutching his sketchbook to his chest.

"I 'ad to get your attention. You were ignoring me, ezz unacceptable," Christophe murmured. His deep voice was spiced with a heavy French accent, a holdover from his childhood growing up in the slums of Paris.

As far as the residents of South Park were concerned, Christophe was simply a foreign exchange student, currently staying with the Tweaks. The truth of the matter was much more complicated...but Christophe seriously doubted anyone would believe him if he divulged _that _information, not even Tweek, who was a walking encyclopedia of conspiracy theories.

"Jesus, you can't go five minutes without someone paying attention to you?" Tweek shot back, making a face.

Tweek had such a charming way of scrunching his nose up whenever he was annoyed, his hazel eyes flashing with irate fire. Christophe had spent a disproportionate amount of time wondering what those eyes would look like fogged over with lust, his breath coming in fast, hard pants. He could feel blood rushing to his groin — and _fuck_, Christophe honestly couldn't believe how much Tweek had this effect on him.

Tweek wasn't a virgin. He'd said so himself, the two of them hanging out on the roof of Tweek Bros. Coffeehouse one clear, moonless night, sharing a joint that Tweek had bummed from Kenny. His surprise when Tweek dug the expertly-rolled cigarillo out of his pocket must have shown on his face, because Tweek immediately became self-conscious.

"It c-calms my nerves!" Tweek explained nervously, holding the joint out of arm's reach, as if he was afraid Christophe was going to snatch it away. Christophe couldn't help laughing at Tweek's reaction, which only made him twitch in indignation.

"Ngh! You aren't going to n-nark to my folks, are you?! Are you?!"

"Détendez-vous, le chou-fleur," Christophe replied, chuckling a little. "By all means, light it."

They'd both been quite pleasantly stoned when Tweek confessed that he wasn't a virgin, gazing blankly up at the stars. He'd been with one person before, he said, but when Christophe asked who this person was, Tweek frowned.

"I'm not t-telling you that," he replied, and Christophe let the subject rest, but he couldn't help noticing how sad Tweek had looked when he said it.

_Qui a cassé votre coeur, mon amour?_

Christophe studied Tweek now, considering.

_Ask for what you want...simply ask..._

"Excusez-moi," Christophe said, placing a hand to his chest in mock-hurt, "I am ze guest! Are you not in ze _café_ business, mon petit? Surely you know ze em'portance of making your guests very happy."

"Ack, I know that!" Tweek squeaked, glancing nervously around the room, as if he was afraid someone was listening. His mother was downstairs right now, baking up a fresh batch of her special cookies. Tweek couldn't prepare regular dishes for shit, but he had learned to bake like a professional from his mother. Christophe didn't even like sweets, but even he had to admit that Tweek's mother made the best cookies, cakes and pies that he'd ever tasted.

"Good," Christophe murmured, "b'cause zere is some'ting I would like to ask, _mon chou."_

"_Juste dire, connard!" _Tweek snarls, and Christophe grins wide. Tweek was of French nationality, and could speak and understand the language fluently. It was one of the first things that Christophe had learned about him, but certainly not the least. Tweek was full of surprises.

"Mmm," Christophe says, reaching for him. Tweek's eyes went wide, but he barely flinched as Christophe ran a hand down his chest, toying with the buttons on his shirt.

"W-wha —?!"

"Tweek," Christophe said, cutting him off before he could say anything, "I want to 'ave sex with you. Do you want to 'ave sex with me?"

"I —-"

Tweek opened and closed his mouth a few times, his expression a study in shock and confusion. The anxious blond seemed to be at a _complete _loss for words, a phenomenon that was as rare as it was endearing. Christophe couldn't help feeling a small amount of pride at having rendered him so speechless, but he fought away the urge to smile, forcing himself to keep a straight face so that Tweek wouldn't think he was joking.

_My love, I am perfectly serious. _

Christophe could have heard a pin drop two rooms over — that's how thick the silence had become. The air was full of expectation, _crackling _with tension, as if the whole world was holding its breath waiting for someone to make the next move. Christophe lowered his eyes and leaned closer and...

...and then Tweek scrambled off the bed, inadvertently sending his sketchbook flying across the room.

"I can't believe you just —!" Tweek sputtered as he cringed beside his desk, twitching from head to toe, "Ngh, how could you even — ! Oh _God_, man! Jesus!"

"Tweek," Christophe replied, trying to sound reasonable, "mon chou —"

"_Grah!_" Tweek hissed, glaring at him as if he'd suddenly grown a third eye. "Y-you can't just ask someone something like that out of the blue, you w-weirdo!"

"Why not?" Christophe inquired, genuinely curious. "How will I know if I 'ave your consent, mon petit?"

"Jesus, _will you stop with the endearments already_?!" Tweek roared, taking Christophe aback.

"Tweek!" Tweek's mother called faintly from downstairs, sounding only vaguely concerned, "Honey, are you okay?"

Tweek flushed guiltily, before stepping away from the desk to stick his head out into the hall. "Ngh! I'm f-fine, Mom!"

"Okay honey! Cookies are almost ready!"

Tweek gently closed his bedroom door. Closed it and _locked _it, Christophe saw. Then he stood with his back turned to him, his head resting lightly against the wood, taking deep breaths.

Christophe caught his bottom lip between his teeth and bit down hard, silently berating himself for upsetting Tweek. It was thoughtless of him to have been so forward.

_Damn you, God._

"Tweek," Christophe began, when he could no longer stand the silence, their comfortable silence that he'd ruined with his selfishness, "Mon chou...Tweek. I am sorry...I'm so very sorry —"

"Shut up," Tweek mumbled, whirling around. Christophe immediately closed his mouth, studying Tweek with apprehensive brown eyes.

Tweek was shaking, and he kept flexing his hands like he was gearing up for a boxing match, but Christophe knew that was just his way of expelling nervous energy. Nervous or no, there was a strange sort of determination in the way Tweek crossed the room to stand before him, shifting from foot to foot. Christophe suddenly felt really awkward sitting on the bed by himself.

"Why?" Tweek mumbled, glancing self-consciously off to the side. Christophe frowned for a second or two, confused, but then it dawned on him what Tweek was asking.

"B'cause," Christophe murmured softly, "I am very attracted to you, mon petit. You are very special to me and...I can't stop t'inking about you."

Tweek swallowed, and then glanced down at his shoes, an old pair of scuffed blue Converse high tops. His bangs fell over his face, hiding his eyes, but Christophe could see that Tweek's cheeks were as red as cherry tomatoes.

He wasn't sure if that was a good sign or not, but the _last _thing he'd wanted to do was make Tweek uncomfortable. Christophe sighed and rubbed the back of his neck, smiling apologetically.

"Tweek, I did not mean to upset you," Christophe began, "I care deeply about you, mon chou...more than any'ting, you are my friend. I —"

Tweek kissed him.

Christophe immediately froze, his heart skipping a beat. Tweek's lips were warm and dry, and Christophe could feel a slight tremble coursing through his body as Tweek leaned in, bracing himself on his shoulders. His kiss was soft and light and just this side of chaste, and before Christophe could really process what was happening, it was over.

Too quick, too soon.

Tweek leaned away, pink with embarrassment, and then proceeded to stare at him as if he wasn't sure what to do next. Christophe let out a breath he hadn't even been aware he was holding, his heart racing with excitement.

"Tweek," Christophe blurted, too happy to care how graceless he sounded, "do you like me?"

Tweek rolled his eyes with a guttural noise, somewhere between a sigh and a growl of annoyance.

"D-don't ask me something so dense!" he scolded. Christophe arched a brow, thoroughly confused, as he sometimes was by Tweek's reactions.

"Je suis désolé," he murmured, but Tweek simply shook his head, bunching his fingers in Christophe's flannel shirt, which was admittedly pretty threadbare, dingy with mud and grass stains that'd never completely washed out.

"I...yes," Tweek mumbled, shyly meeting his gaze, his hazel eyes apprehensive but steady. "I l-like you, man. I like you _a lot_, and I really..._really_ want to have s-sex with you."

When Christophe simply stared, too stunned to form a response, Tweek gulped and continued, "Cr — I mean, the _first _person I was with...didn't really ask. It just sort of h-happened. S-so I...ngh...nevermind! Thank you for asking, and the answer is yes. Just yes."

"Mon chou," Christophe replied breathily, wondering if he was dreaming this, "are you —"

"Sure? Yes," Tweek interrupted, smiling a little. "Jesus. I may be anxious, but I'm not indecisive. I, uh. I'm sorry I freaked out at first...I was just shocked, man. I _hate _surprises."

"My apologies," Christophe whispered, as Tweek pressed close, wedging himself between his legs. He carefully wrapped his skinny arms around his neck, leaning forward so that their foreheads were touching.

"This was a-actually kind of a nice surprise," Tweek murmured, and then he kissed him again.

Tweek was an inexperienced kisser. Christophe could tell from the clumsy way he mushed their lips together, all eagerness and no finesse. Their noses bumped awkwardly, throwing Tweek slightly off the mark, and Christophe couldn't help smiling at the attempt, his lips curling against Tweek's mouth.

"Ngh, _shit _—"

Tweek pulled away, muttering curses under his breath in frustration, before he cupped Christophe's face so he could tilt his head just so. Christophe tenderly laced his hands behind Tweek's back, guiding him forward at just the right angle, and this time there was nothing to get in the way their affection.

Tweek's kisses were soft and uncertain, a flurry of small pecks that sent shivers racing down his spine. They were never quite hard enough, never quite _deep _enough for him — Tweek seemed to be asking questions with every press and pull of his lips.

_Can I trust you? Can I? Will you hurt me?_

Christophe growled low in his throat and surged forward, running his tongue along Tweek's bottom lip, desperately prodding for access. Tweek granted it with a soft mewl, and Christophe flooded into him, exploring his mouth like a forgotten city filled with ancient treasure — his to claim if only he was brave enough, and careful.

Tweek tasted like coffee — of course — but also like weed and spearmint-flavored gum, and as Christophe reached behind him to cup Tweek's ass he knew he'd never get enough.

_Mon amour, reste avec moi, toujours._

"M-mnh, you're good at that," Tweek said when they broke away for a moment, panting a little. He was shivering uncontrollably, but for once he seemed excited rather than anxious.

"Of course. I am French. We are ze best kissers _and _ze best lovers," Christophe replied, waggling his bushy eyebrows. Tweek blinked, and then laughed, a bright, cheerful sound that made his chest tighten and sent a thrill straight to his balls.

"Uh-huh. Jesus, your ego is _amazing_, you know that?"

"My _dick _ezz amazing," Christophe purred, unabashed.

"Whatever, man. _I'll_ be the judge of that," Tweek replied, nudging him down on the bed. Christophe obliged, pulling Tweek on top of him.

The smaller blond boy straddled his hips, reverently running his hands up and down his arms and along the muscular planes of his chest. Christophe was wearing a very simple button-down, and even though he didn't own very many clothes (those he _did _own were either old or dirty or missing bits of fabric) he wouldn't have objected at all if Tweek had _ripped _this damn thing right off him.

To his disappointment, there was no ripping. Tweek's hands wandered freely over his pecs, teasing his nipples into a firm little buds through his shirt, but when Tweek's questing fingers found his collar he suddenly paused, biting his lip in a mixture of longing and uncertainty.

Christophe firmly grasped Tweek's skinny hips and arched against him, trying to communicate without actually having to _communicate _that he was free to do whatever he wanted to him, just, d_on't stop_. But all he got was a mildly distressed squeal, followed by a little wiggle that wasn't entirely unpleasant considering his current position. Christophe chuckled softly, propping himself up on his elbows so he could nuzzle Tweek's neck, pressing small, comforting kisses into his skin. Tweek was so feisty, Christophe sometimes forgot how often he needed encouragement.

"You can undress me, mon chou," Christophe whispered, nipping Tweek's ear. "Ezz what you want?"

Tweek gulped, then nodded, apparently not trusting himself to speak. Christophe breathed against him, trailing a wet line along his jaw with his tongue. Tweek shivered violently in response, and clung to his shoulders for dear life as Christophe nosed the delicate spot where Tweek's pulse throbbed erratically.

"You can fuck me as hard as you like," Christophe continued in a low, rough whisper, before he carefully — _carefully _— bit him, only increasing the pressure after Tweek made a sound somewhere between a gasp and a moan, hot as all hell.

"You can make me scream, if zat is what you want. You can make me beg. You can cum on me, cum _in _me, if zat is what you want," Christophe growled, snaking his hands down the back of Tweek's jeans, right up underneath the colorful boxer-briefs he so preferred. His ass felt _amazing_. "I can fuck you slow or fast..._whatever _you want, mon chou, ma chérie…"

"N-nngh, oh G-god, _yes_," Tweek panted, quickly undoing the buttons on his shirt, all his uncertainty and hesitation gone. "Yes, _please_, I want all of that. Is that o-okay?"

"Ezz _perfect_," Christophe murmured, helping him along by undoing his belt buckle.

Tweek's movements were frantic, but surprisingly coordinated. Within seconds, Christophe's shirt was off and on the floor, and Tweek was caressing his bare chest like it was the holy grail of physical contact.

"Jesus — what happened here?" Tweek asked, slowly tracing a rather nasty scar just above his navel.

_Someone tried to stab me,_ Christophe thought, but he knew that was something he'd have to keep to himself. It made him feel sad somehow, a fresh reminder of all the secrets he kept for his own protection, and the protection of everyone around him.

"Ah...ezz...long story," Christophe replied evasively, reaching for Tweek's fly. The sound of the loosening zipper made his dick twitch in anticipation. Tweek gently laid a hand over his own, stopping him before he could go any further, his hazel eyes bright.

"You'll t-tell me about it someday, right?" Tweek asked, hopeful. Christophe caught his bottom lip between his teeth, feeling a stab of guilt that no place being here, not _now_. Later he would deal with it, but right now he just wanted to enjoy this, to make Tweek feel good.

"Yes," Christophe said, relieved to find he actually meant that, "I promise, mon petit."

Tweek smiled, satisfied. "You b-better! Now, uh, is it just me or are we wearing too many pants? Er...too much pants? The pants are...in the way…"

"Ah, ma chérie, you are right! Allow me," Christophe replied, hooking his thumbs in Tweek's waistband.

He pulled Tweek's jeans down in one smooth motion, taking his boxers with them. Tweek's dick was a thing of beauty, slim and smooth, and it arched up from the much darker base of his coarse blond pubic hair. Christophe ran his tongue over his lips, suddenly wanting nothing more than to take Tweek in his mouth and suck until cum was running down his throat.

Tweek swung himself off the bed, realizing there was no way to get his pants all the way off with his shoes still on. He removed them quickly, letting his jeans puddle on the floor, then helped Christophe shimmy out of the rest of his clothes.

"Oh God, man, _Jesus_!" Tweek exclaimed once Christophe was completely naked, eying Christophe's cock. "Uh…"

"Ha! Told you my dick was amazing," Christophe replied, giving himself a few strokes. He was painfully hard, his balls heavy, _aching _for attention. Tweek was still wearing his shirt, and it didn't appear as if he had any intention of taking it off. Somehow, that seemed appropriate.

"Um...here, let me…" Tweek murmured, desire written all over his face.

Tweek eased down beside him, then closed a hand around his dick in a loose fist. Christophe's head fell back as Tweek began to pump up and down, tightening his grip, and he groaned, loud and unabashed, when Tweek swiped his thumb over the head, smearing the precum gathered there.

"Chris," Tweek said breathlessly, leaning up to kiss his cheek, "please, man, we have to be _quiet_...my Mom's right downstairs."

_Shit_. He had forgotten all about Tweek's mother, happily (and obliviously) baking cookies while her son and the foreign exchange student fucked right above her head. Honestly, Christophe never would have thought Tweek possessed the nerve — but then again, he _was _full of surprises.

"Mmm, mon chou, _stop_," Christophe pleaded, gently clasping Tweek's wrist, his hand still pumping steadily up and down, "much more of zat and I'll not be lasting long…"

"R-really?" Tweek asked, genuinely surprised.

"It haz been a while," Christophe explained, cupping Tweek's face. He kissed him deeply, _slowly_, insinuating his tongue in every crevice of Tweek's mouth that he could reach. When he broke away, Tweek was panting again, and he couldn't seem to stop shaking.

"You are wonderful, petit," Christophe murmured, kissing Tweek's nose and eyelids and chin, before making his way down his neck. He lifted Tweek's shirt so that he could kiss his belly, while Tweek lay back against the pillows with his knuckles raised to his mouth to muffle his moans.

"Wonderful…" Christophe whispered. He gave the head of Tweek's cock a few long, slow licks, lapping up precum and tracing swollen veins with the very tip of his tongue. Tweek whined needily, his hips twitching out of control.

"Ngahh, _please_," Tweek hissed around the knuckles in his mouth, his eyes screwed shut, every muscle tensed, "Chris, _please…_"

_Ask, and you shall receive, mon amour. _Christophe grasped Tweek's dick by the base and took him in his mouth, using his free hand to fondle his balls. Tweek all but _melted _into his touch, and after a while he was thrusting gently, sliding his cock up against Christophe's tongue while he hummed the French national anthem around him.

"_Ooh_," Tweek gasped, tangling his fingers in Christophe's dark brown hair, his chin wet with drool. Christophe began interspersing deep suckles with hard pulls, listening as Tweek's gasps became louder, every moan wracked with pleasure. His own dick was screaming for some contact, but Christophe didn't care. He wanted to bring Tweek to orgasm, he wanted to have Tweek's cum on his face and hands and in his mouth, he wanted to see him _writhing _beneath him, struggling to survive the onslaught.

"Oh, _fuck_!" Tweek suddenly shouted, his back arching off the mattress. Christophe had pushed a single dry finger into his ass, and was gently moving in and out while he nibbled on Tweek's inner thigh.

From downstairs, faintly: "Tweek? Honey, is everything okay?"

_Damn!_ Christophe halted his movements, waiting to hear Tweek's mother coming up the stairs with a knot of dread in his belly, but Tweek shuddered and managed to gasp out, "Fine! _Ngh_, I'm fine, we're _fine_!"

There was silence — Christophe could only hope Mrs. Tweak and gone back to her baking. Tweek shifted pointedly beneath him. When Christophe glanced down, he saw that his eyes were glazed, and his cheeks were blazing with color.

"Fuck me, _now_!" Tweek ordered, his voice steady in spite of the shiver running through his skinny frame, "I want you to _fuck me,_ Chris. Show me w-what you can do with that amazing cock. She'll be done soon, so make it q-quick, man!"

"Mmm, as you wish, ma chérie," Christophe replied, his voice low, roughened with lust, "but...I do not have a condom."

"C-christ, neither do I," Tweek admitted, swallowing nervously. "B-but, um, I'm clean, uh. Are you?"

"I am, I swear it."

"Good. I trust you," Tweek replied, and somehow those words, _I trust you_, turned Christophe on more than anything else they'd done thus far. " 'Cause if I have to go to the clinic after this, I'm kicking your fucking ass, man."

"Oui, we wouldn't want that," Christophe replied, laughing softly.

"There's lube in the nightstand," Tweek added, desperation making him demanding — and fuck, he _loved _seeing him like this, "hurry!"

Christophe did as he was told, opening the top drawer to find a small tube of KY jelly, half-used. There were a bunch of pencils and doodles on notebook paper in there, odd knick-knacks that made sense only to Tweek, and even what looked like a letter from someone named Craig, but Christophe closed the drawer without looking at it.

He lubed up quickly, getting a bunch more on the bedcovers and on his fingers. "Tweek, mon chou, should I use this on you…?"

"No, Jesus, just stick it in. Apply moderate force if needed —- I'm sturdy," Tweek replied, hiking his legs up in anticipation, "C'mon man, why would I have lube if I weren't using it regularly?"

"I'm a lot bigger than your fingers," Christophe teased, but nevertheless he lined himself up, letting Tweek rest his ankles on his shoulders.

"I'll be the judge of tha —- _ahhh _—-!"

Christophe slipped inside him with one long, slow thrust, relishing the heat, the tightness, the feel of Tweek trembling all around him. Tweek turned his head to stuff a corner of his quilt into his mouth, muffling his cries of bliss.

"Are you okay, petit?" Christophe asked, and fuck, Tweek _was _small — he was afraid he'd break him.

Tweek nodded emphatically, clenching around him. Christophe groaned, taking his meaning immediately.

_Get on with it already!_

He would have loved to take Tweek slowly, pushing his head up against the mattress again and again and again, but they didn't have time for that. So he wrapped his hands around Tweek's hips and began thrusting _hard_, slamming into him with a soft slapping sound of of flesh connecting.

And, _oh_, even his wildest imaginings couldn't possibly have compared with the reality, how sweet it was, how they seemed to fit together like they were _meant _for this. Christophe knew he wouldn't last as long as he would have liked — it was just too much. Maybe later, in a different setting, they could spend hours making love. Right now, it was all he could do to reach down and stroke Tweek's dick in time with his thrusts, determined to see him finish first.

"Mm, ngh — _Chris_!" Tweek cried hoarsely, coming with a full-body spasm that almost lifted him off the bed.

A few thrusts later, Christophe came, biting his bottom lip until he tasted blood, trying to keep it as quiet as possible. The ecstasy he felt nearly _blinded _him, physical release followed by a joy that set every nerve tingling.

Christophe slumped, collapsing half on Tweek and half on the bed, utterly spent. He couldn't have said when Tweek spoke next — it could have been a few seconds later or a few hours. He'd lost all track of time.

"Christophe?" Tweek whispered, kissing his cheek.

"Hm?" Christophe shifted his head to look at him, surprised that Tweek had used his full name — something he hadn't done since the very beginning. Tweek's skin was moist with sweat, and there were several hickies adorned along his neckline. Christophe was certain he hadn't set out to make those — not on _purpose_, anyway — but apparently Tweek bruised like a damn charm.

"Is zere...some'ting wrong, mon chou?" Christophe asked, not liking the intense way Tweek was looking at him.

"Yeah," Tweek replied, and Christophe felt a second's stab of fear, before he leaned in and kissed him, full of love.

"_Je t'aime, mon cheri," _Tweek said, soft, tender, his hazel eyes inviting him to stay as long as he liked, to share this with him, if that's what he wanted.

Christophe wanted to share it, more than anything. He smiled brightly, wrapping his arms around Tweek, holding him close.

"Je aime à vous, ma chérie."


End file.
